


Inundated With Regret, Driven By The Past

by Iovelies



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Character Development, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Save them, They all need a hug, Thor Needs a Hug, please, someone get loki a psychologist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 17:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iovelies/pseuds/Iovelies
Summary: Unable - or perhaps unwilling - to comprehend a reality in which there is hope, or even such a thing as love, Loki steels himself before his trial.No, Loki can't rely on something so fleeting as hope... And yet, as he grabs hold of the tesseract, he allows the feeling to flood through him."By Odin's pathetic beard... Give me strength."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After the events of Endgame, Thor rots in regrets. Haunted by thoughts of how he'd treated his brother before his unexpected death, he couldn't be at peace with himself. He had to fix things... If only to ease his guilt.

Thor does consider himself a fool, oh yes - a blundering fool, one who could not for the life of him seem to do something positive… Not even for himself.

It seemed that the past few years of his life he'd made mistake after mistake.. Blinded by his arrogance, his ignorance. He'd stumbled through life living as if he knew all. As if he could do anything.

Thor realizes now how utterly wrong his preconceived notions were. He'd failed in nearly every task he'd been entrusted with. He didn't go for the head, sure, that's a given. He lives with that guilt - he shoulders it - however since they'd regained those lost to the blip, Thor had dwelled on could'ves in relation to his failure far less often.

The guilt left from that affair doesn't eat him alive. It doesn't haunt him at night, claiming his dreams, consuming him. It never would be - never could be comparable to the agony, the gaping hole he felt in his brother's absence.

At first he'd grieved for Loki, the last of his family. For the stability of having a _brother_ had been ripped from him.

As time passed and Thor whittled away his time drinking, he fell further into an abyss. Perhaps one he had created himself.

Only then, with nights spent staring at himself in the mirror experiencing disappointment so palpable he felt as if he could grasp it, did he start comprehending the agony Loki must have lived with. With each passing day, Thor fell closer to the edge. He no longer felt at a loss when trying to decipher what reason his brother had to plunge himself into the cosmos all those years ago. Over a thousand years, and only now did he feel he could begin to grasp at understanding Loki. 

He'd beg the gods themselves to have one last chance, to teach Loki that he is indeed loved. If he could do this, perhaps, the guilt would no longer gnaw away at him. His dreams, they could be pleasant. No longer would he waste away like this, drink in hand.

It was at this point - lost in his own brooding and bargaining with himself, that he realized that there was no need to beg the gods for one last chance. The opportunity that he'd only dreamt of was perfectly well within his reach.

The time machine on Midgard. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would be an understatement to say Loki has had it "easy". He's spent his life taking on every challenge unaided, and for that, it would've been shocking if he had turned out just fine.  


Unable - or perhaps unwilling - to comprehend a reality in which there is hope, or even such a thing as love, Loki steels himself as Thor tugs him forward. His fate dawns on him now, his sentence - sure to be more horrendous than he can fathom - looms over him.

A sentiment as fleeting as hope...Whilst in Thanos's clutches it had been crucial that he let go of meaningless emotions. For they would weaken him - make the horrid torture _ unbearable _. Thanos had been flawless in making him lose sight of a future in which he was free. 

Yet, as he grabs hold of the tesseract, he allows the _ hope _he'd claimed to have forsaken flood through him. _By Odin's pathetic beard... Give me strength._

As if answering his prayer, a flash of white light obstructed his vision. Something - or someone - came in between him and Thor, attempting to shield him. For one alarming moment, Loki was almost convinced the god-like man was Odin himself, however such a thing _ wouldn't _happen. His "father" felt no such sympathy for him.

The light diminished until it no longer blinded him and - despite himself - he recoiled in shock at the familiar yet oh so foreign person in front of him. 

_ Its Thor... _

No, this man was a mere shadow of the image of his brother. He was worn by guilt and regret. His clothes were haggard, his hair matted, beard clearly uncared for, shoulders slumped. Loki didn't have to assess his memories to _ know _ that he'd drunk himself into this state. (If the pounds he'd put on weren't implicating enough on their own.) 

Had he not been muffled, he would've attempted to speak - however trying now wouldn't do him any good. Casting a curious glance to his brother, he was startled to see Thor looking even more shocked than he himself was… _ which means this isn't his doing. _

"Who in the-" His brother was interrupted by the _ other _ Thor thrusting an ax far bulkier, far more grand than mjolnir into the ground. Brilliant lightning struck down, momentarily disengaging _ his _ Thor. Before Loki could pull himself together, the imposter grabbed him by the arm and an indescribable force - one he'd only perceived once before when using the tesseract to teleport - pulled at them, ripping them from the Midgard he _ knew. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor may not be able to fully understand Loki's hurt, however, as his brother he can begin to build bridges between them.  
-  
Loki wants to believe a day will come where he can accept affection without feeling emotional whiplash.

"This is going to be hard to take, but before you ask-" Thor started as he unclasped the muffle from Loki. "This is 11 years in the future, mother and father are dead. You're dead."

Thor's voice shook as he said it, and although he really should've, he just couldn't force himself to meet Loki's eyes. Everything was _his_ own fault. Loki would, once again, pay the price for his mistakes. That was something that would never be easy to live with. 

Loki, after one too many painstakingly tense moments, eventually spoke;

"... How am I to believe you?" 

Finally raising his head to meet Loki's eyes, he had expected hatred, anger, despise. Instead, Loki looked… Lost. Torn. Not wanting to believe him, and yet, if someone was trying to mess with his head, why would they appear before him in a form that didn't even look like the brother he knew?

"Whether or not you believe me, that's your verdict…" Yet Thor could sense Loki's trust, diluted by doubt, by grief, but _ there. _

"I must ask you one question, Loki. You didn't attack New York willingly, did you? There was someone else pulling the strings, tampering with your mind."

Thor had suspected this, even 11 years ago, Loki had spoken of visions - of worlds unimaginable. He hadn't sounded like himself, rather he'd sounded like a visionary with terrible motivations. A horrible pit had settled in his stomach at the genuine _ fear _ that played in Loki's eyes when he mentioned that there was another person behind it.

However, always stubborn, Loki would deny that he could be manipulated or controlled by anyone - just as he always had.

"It was just me, Thor. Or do you doubt that I have the willpower to commit such an act? Does this help you sleep at night? Thinking I'm not actually the cold-blooded murderer who brought a fleet of aliens to attack your precious Midgard?" 

Thor knew now, as much as Loki felt that he had to be convincing less his abuser come for him, he couldn't help but change his tone at the word _ murderer._

That, Loki would never be. 

"There's only one person who had the infinity stone, who had the power to control people, Loki. And he's dead."

Since initiating the conversation, he'd been studying Loki's expressions carefully. Fully aware that this was only way to draw any ounce of truth out of his brother. However, at the announcement of the death of Thanos, Loki's face went from an expression of nervous fear to absolute _ nothingness_. Silence ensued for a few moments - then soft chuckling growing louder, until Loki's shackles jangled as he raised his hands to his face, giving out loud cackles. His frame shook as cackles slowly mixed with sobs, until Thor himself wasn't quite sure which one it was. 

"So that bastard finally kicked the bucket? That's karma for you- I suppose I got mine, and now he's gotten his... I hope he's festering down there in hell."

Thor blinked, staring wide eyed at Loki.

_Loki practically just admitted that Thanos had a part in the attack... and the one thing he knew about Thanos is that he's willing to inflict endless pain on someone to get them to do his bidding. How much torture would it have taken to break someone as headstrong as Loki? How many months did he spend in Thanos's clutches? _

The uncomfortable pit that had been settling in his stomach was nearly unbearable now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this fanfic with the goal of divulging deeper into the mental health aspects of Thor and Loki.  
There's so much left unsaid in the movies, so I suppose this is kinda like a bandaid fanfic for myself.  
-  
Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Healing doesn't happen overnight ; it can take months or years.  
Healing doesn't have to be grandiose ; it can be found in something as simple as a nap, or a nice warm meal.

The first thing Loki registered was the familiar fog in his mind, the grogginess as his eyes took their time to focus and the room slowly became less fuzzy. He shifted onto his stomach, taking notice of the way the blankets clung to his frame. It was natural for him to wake overheated, irritable, nausea clawing at his throat, threatening to overtake him. Waking always, without fail, left him feeling like there was something _ missing. _ The cause being that Loki hadn't been able to get a full night of undisturbed sleep in years. Insomnia, nightmares, and his tendency to overheat easily had been ailing him regularly since he was in his late 700's.

Back when he still lived in Asgard's palace, Fandral had often jested that Loki wouldn't be so goddamn moody if he simply _ slept _ for once. Of course, it was habitual for Thor's friends to find the things that Loki genuinely couldn't help - his insomnia, for example - and jest about them specifically. Typical. 

Stepping from the uncomfortably hot mattress, he released a sigh of comfort as his feet made contact with the cool floor of the ship.

Loki sometimes wonders if Fandral was right, after all, he'd definitely had far less worries when he was younger, when he got full nights of sleep. However that could easily be contributed to age. There's far too much that Loki doesn't know about himself, genetically and biologically. The Jotuns were incredibly oppressed by Odin during his reign, thus resulting in there being limited knowledge of his species. He often wonders if that could be the reason for his insomnia, or his moods. Perhaps there were specific conditions that were easier for Jotuns to sleep in, or specific foods he needed to consume to keep up his nutrition. Whatever the cause was, his health had always been more frail than the Asgardians he lived among. 

-

Loki fidgeted absent-mindedly as he cast a spell upon the clothes he'd been given - seeing that the ones he'd been wearing were bloodied and all Thor had were old clothes that no longer fit, yet were still too baggy for Loki himself. 

It was a simple spell that made the clothes adjust around his body, to a more suitable size. As it did its work, his mind couldn't help but wonder, as it had been doing for the past few hours. Yesterday, he'd been far too exhausted to even ask why in the hell Thor wanted him _ here _ instead of in his actual timeline - where he belonged. Surely Thor wouldn't be so goddamn mindless that he'd go back in time simply because he'd _ died _, no, Thor had never cared that much for him in the first place. He had to ignore the twinge of pain in his chest at the thought. It wasn't anything new to him, he was far too used to feeling discarded or unimportant. Thor surely wanted him for something, had taken him for some purpose. After all, Thor always had cast Loki about for his own gain. Wherever his brother went, it was simply expected that Loki would follow him, without question. 

Breaking him from his musing, the door slid open, revealing his pajama clad brother who gingerly stepped into his room. Steam rose from the bowl of soup he carried, and the smell wafted through the room, making Loki's stomach rumble.

"Morning, Lo! I've brought breakfast, I assumed you'd be hungry."

Loki cringed at the childhood nickname his brother had taken to calling him. It's not that he disliked familiarity, he just felt uncomfortable with it in most cases. Their parents had been incredibly formal.

However, there were times that he longed for it. Longed to be a child again, to feel safe. To know he was loved. 

"I suppose I could eat…" 

Thor placed the bowl of soup in his hands, then sank down into the couch in an unrefined fashion. Standing there for a few moments, Loki wasn't sure what to do before he realized that he was probably expected to sit. 

After a year spent in Thanos's torture chambers, common social interactions had become unfamiliar - everything forced, calculated. Loki hates drawing attention to himself, so his very way of speaking had all become a carefully written act. A facade to face the world with, in order for him to hide in plain sight.

Thor observed his every action, watching over him, worried for him. His brother had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, he was one of the most easy to read people Loki knew. Of course that was one of his many weaknesses, it made him terribly easy to deceive. In result of this, Thor had always been the target of Loki's mischief. 

Finally seating himself, Loki avoided Thor's gaze. He wasn't particularly hungry - his appetite had diminished as a captive - however, Thor would only worry himself more if he discovered his brother hadn't been eating enough. 

With that in mind, Loki gripped the bowl, shakily raising it to his mouth. Compared to the stale pieces of bread he'd consumed day in and day out while contained by Thanos, this was _ delicious, _which prompted Loki to begin eagerly gulping it down, despite himself. 

"How long has it been since you've last eaten?" Thor had that damned concerned look in his eye that Loki _ despised _ . People don't just worry for him. They never have, they've always wanted something from him in return. His circumstances had drilled that into him so intensely, that even at times when he should've been able to process things as someone simply being friendly or worrying over him, it translated to him as someone wanting to take advantage of him. The thought of anyone actually _ caring _ is so foreign and terrifying that it makes him want to crawl out of his skin. 

"All I've had for the past year have been scraps of stale bread." He didn't know why he said it, _ shouldn't _have said it. He hates himself for the painstakingly guilty look on Thor's face, and the whisper of an apology that left Thor's lips almost instantly. Looking down at the bowl of soup, it now seems daunting. The familiar sensation of nausea eats away at him, anxiety and waves of sickness making the soup unwelcoming. Silence ensues between him and Thor, minutes pass. 

He'd never been one for wasting food, even when living among the nobility in the palace, it never aligned with his morals. Forcing himself to gulp the last of the soup down, he sets the bowl down and rearranges himself on the couch. The anxiety now burning through his chest nearly compelling him to retch up everything he'd just consumed. 

> "How did I die?" 


End file.
